


What You Want

by Hekate1308



Series: Love And Blood [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, M/M, married Drowley, retired mob boss!Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: He felt numb.He’d been numb since he’d heard the news.His son was dead.Prequel to As You Are. Drowley, mob boss!Crowley, teacher!Dean





	What You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I couldn't help myself... Enjoy!

He felt numb.

He’d been numb since he’d heard the news.

His son was dead.

Just as they had been establishing a good relationship...

And not just him. His fiancée, too.

The autopsy report had been worse than even MacLeod could have been expected.

Fiona had been pregnant. He could have been a grandfather at this time next year.

Other than the police though, he was certain there had been foul play involved.

And whoever had done this, whoever had tempered with their car...

They would bleed for this. They would bleed, and then they would die.

And then he’d leave their body to rot on a garbage dump.

There was no doubt in his mind that he could easily find the culprits; and indeed he did.

Abbadon.

It was Abbadon.

His own gang was turning against him.

At first, MacLeod thought of instigating a blood bath, watching them kill each other; he cared little for his own life at this point, as long as they died.

But then he realized that death was too good for them. Death meant the end of pain. He didn’t want that.

There was one other way.

Agent Henriksen was standing up as he strutted into his office; apparently the news that the mob boss of the Hell cartel wanted to speak to him had shocked him.

It really shouldn’t have. MacLeod in his place would have been ecstatic, considering he’d been after him for over three years now.

He had talent, he had to admit that.

“Mr. MacLeod. Have a seat, please”.

He’d also gotten over his surprise rather quickly.

He sat.

“I have information through which you could easily take down the Hell cartel”.

“You are admitting you’re...”

“I’m not admitting to anything” he said. “I am simply telling you I have information pertaining to the Hell cartel. Do you want to take it down?”

He had no intention of sharing a cell with his son’s murderers.

After a lot of resistance, Henriksen had to admit defeat; he would never have won without the data MacLeod could provide him with; and so a bargain – that was carefully kept from the public – was struck.

A year after Gavin’s death, Fergus MacLeod was no more and Crowley Sheppard was a business man recently moved to the city of Lawrence, Kansas.

It turned out he had way too much time on his hands as a law-abiding citizen.

The consulting business he’d founded soon took off, and he found himself with empty evenings and nights.

Say what you want about life as a mob boss, but at least he’d never been bored.

It was the first time he’d ever dreaded anything, those days he looked at the clock and willed it to go slower.

And then he met Dean Winchester.

It was pure chance their paths ever crossed. He had certainly no reason to ever meet a history and English teacher.

But one morning, just after exciting his car in front of his office building, he heard a crash in a street nearby.

The paperwork could wait for a while. It had been months since he’d seen any real action.

It was a car accident, but the two drivers involved had only received minor injuries, other than...

He was about to turn away and go to work after all when he noticed the good Samaritan who’d stopped and parked his car – a beautiful ’67 Chevy Impala – so he could help properly.

Crowley had seen his fine share of good-looking people, but this was one of the most gorgeous men he’d ever seen.

He supposed it couldn’t hurt to help a little. Karma and all that.

“Good morning. Are you perhaps in need of assistance?”

The good Samaritan turned his head to look at him. He was even more beautiful up close.

And something else...

Crowley would have never made it far in organized crime if he hadn’t been able to read people flawlessly.

And the good Samaritan? He liked what he saw, too.

He flashed him a bright smile.

“I think everything’s under control here, I am mostly keeping sure they stay conscious until the EMTs arrive”.

“That is probably for the best”.

He held out his hand.

“Crowley Sheppard”.

His new name went quite as easily of his tongue as his old had ever done; probably because he’d always been tempted to change it.

Mostly to annoy his mother, but still.

“Dean Winchester”.

And with a smile and a wink – yes, he was indeed attracted to him – Dean leaned over the woman in the driver seat again.

“And, breathing’s still good?”

Crowley had stayed around until the ambulance had arrived to take them away.

“Thanks for the company” Dean said.

“No problem. If you want to repay me, you can always have dinner with me”.

There was no harm in indulging himself a little, and no need for Dean to know who he happily agreed to go on a date with.

This was only ever supposed to be a distraction from his daily boring life.

After around the third week of them constantly texting and several nights spent together at Dean’s house and vice versa, that excuse began to sound a bit thin.

He hadn’t wanted someone like this in so long that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like, waking up next to someone else who wasn’t fearfully or respectfully (and sometimes both) scrambling away.

But then, Dean didn’t know there was any reason to fear him.

And Crowley was stupid enough and wanted enough that he only realized what exactly they were doing when Dean introduced him to his family.

He should have broken it off then. It was hardly fair to continue a relationship when he lied to his partner on a regular basis.

And yet he didn’t leave him, because this would definitely not go any farther. No one had ever really expressed a wish to spend their lives with him, so he hardly feared that would be the case.

He’d never quite figured out how, despite his solid principles, they ended up marrying. It had just always been a bad time to break things off; he didn’t want to hurt Dean too much; and it had been too close to his birthday, or his mother’s death anniversary, or he’d had a difficult day at school...

It didn’t matter. The point was he became Crowley Winchester, and all of a sudden he was a married man.

Since he had to keep the FBI informed about his doings according to the deal, he sent a wedding invitation to Henriksen. It was meant as more of a joke than anything else, and he was surprised to receive honest congratulations.

Things were actually going surprisingly well.

And then, of course, they stopped doing that.

Dean was growing increasingly frustrated with his reluctance to talk about his family and his past, and Crowley didn’t wish to lie to him more than he already had; it was inevitable really, and he should have seen it coming.

He had no excuse.

Dean would ask for a divorce eventually. He had been an idiot, had allowed himself to be swept away with the tide, suddenly falling in love for the first time in his life, and he was going to lose all of this again.

He was lying awake next to Dean when he heard it one night.

Someone had just broken into their house.

He got the knife he always kept on his bedside drawer, unbeknownst to Dean, and kissed his husband on the forehead before he slipped out to deal with their intruder.

**One month later**

“I said I’d cook today...”

“When I saw your meeting took longer than you thought it would, I figured I’d start. It’s just pasta anyway”.

Dean kissed him.

“The flowers are coming along nicely. Must be the special dung” Dean said lightly.

“Oh, we also had a visitor... he left about half an hour ago. An agent Henriksen”.

“What did he want?”

“Apparently someone with ties to a disbanded cartel has gone missing... Told me he was asking all our neighbours because he’d been seen in town. Really thought I’d believe him”.

Crowley was somewhat alarmed, but Dean seemed relaxed enough.

“Told him I’d never seen the guy. He believed me.”

“You sure?”

Dean grinned.

“I’m a good liar, plus he thinks I don’t know, right?”

“I’m rather sure that’s what he believes, yes”.

“Gave me his card. Told me to call him if I see the guy. I said I didn’t think it very likely, there was no reason he’d come to our house of all places”.

Dean was happily smiling as he told him about lying to a federal agent. He was learning something new about his husband every day.  

“Sailing a bit close to the wind there, captain.”

“I’m not worried; you wouldn’t believe the things my husband can do with a knife”.

“Is that so” he said, drawing him in.

The pasta was unfortunately burned, so they ended up ordering pizza that night.


End file.
